


An Unexpected Cup of Tea

by wallaby24



Category: Political RPF, Political RPF - UK 20th-21st c.
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-14
Updated: 2017-04-14
Packaged: 2018-10-18 17:31:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,024
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10621731
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wallaby24/pseuds/wallaby24
Summary: "I just send Philip up [to bed] without me if I have lots to do. But he is terribly thoughtful with the little touches that matter so he might bring me an unexpected cup of tea."  - Theresa MayA one-shot based on this, as requested by savingpl, xcharmcandyx, and zahra970.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: The content of this work is purely fictional. No disrespect and political bias is intended by this work.

Theresa sighed as she lifted the next report out of the red box on the couch next to her. It was late, quite late, both of the hands on the clock above the mantel creeping toward twelve, and Philip had just gone to bed a few minutes earlier. She doubted she’d be following him anytime soon—as wonderful as the thought of curling up next to her husband and closing her eyes sounded.

Nothing about this week was going according to plan. Article 50 had passed the Lords on Monday night— _that_ had been supposed to happen—but everything had gone steadily downhill from there. She’d spent yesterday tussling with Philip Hammond over the national insurance contributions, eventually forcing a reversal that he’d conveniently announced just twenty minutes before her question time this morning, leaving her to manage the fallout. Last night had been a late one as she’d stayed up going over notes for PMQs, and tonight would be the same. She was off to Wales on Friday, and that had been planned, but in the wake of Nicola Sturgeon’s demand for a second referendum for Scotland, her speech had been reexamined and rewritten earlier this evening, meaning she’d not even opened her box until less than an hour ago.

The papers she was currently holding had come from Hammond himself, and she flicked through them with irritation. What a mess he’d made with the self-employment contributions.

She glanced at the clock again…perhaps she could go to bed and finish this in the morning? No, that would mean rising at five instead of six, and she’d far rather stay up late than get up early, in spite of the headache that was beginning behind her eyes. Theresa stretched her neck from side to side, unsuccessfully trying to ease its stiffness, then forced herself to focus on the words in front of her.

A moment later, she felt a hand lightly caress her shoulder. “Here, darling…”

She looked back to see her husband standing behind the couch, a teacup in his hand and a soft smile on his face. “Oh, how lovely!” she exclaimed, setting the papers on her lap and taking the saucer from him. “I thought you were going to bed?”

“I was—or rather, I am. But by way of the kitchen so I could make you a cup of tea first.”

“You didn’t have to do that for me,” she said, taking a sip of the hot liquid. Earl Grey, her favorite, with just the right amount of milk mixed in. She was suddenly wrapped in the softness of an old, familiar love, which warmed her more than the tea itself.

Philip smiled again, and she felt herself smile in return. “I know, but you looked stressed and tired when I left.” He leaned down to kiss her temple. “I thought it would be a nice pick-me-up.”

“Thank you…I _am_ stressed and tired. Oh, that feels wonderful.” He had begun rubbing slow, firm circles up and down her neck, and she sighed. “I don’t know what I’ll do about Scotland.”

“I thought you were determined not to give them a second referendum?”

“I’m not giving them a second referendum…but suppose Nicola holds one anyway? And am I just strengthening her position by _not_ granting one?”

“The polls are showing the majority of Scots don’t want a second referendum.”

“If we trust the polls.” Did anyone who had lived through 2016? She took a long drink. “And either way, we don’t need this conversation right now. It weakens our negotiating position. The EU knows we’re not united.”

“What the EU knows is that you’re a bloody difficult woman. Juncker and Tusk don’t care about the Scottish midget.”

Theresa giggled. “Don’t let the press hear you call her that.”

“Is that the Scots you’re working on now?” he asked.

“No, it’s something from the Other Philip.” They’d taken to referring to the Chancellor this way, and she still smiled at the thought of the nickname that had circulated in Whitehall for Hammond after his appointment: the second most important Philip in Downing Street.

“Are you sorry you didn’t marry him, and make me Chancellor? I wouldn’t have botched the budget nearly so badly.”

She laughed, thinking back to the Philip Hammond she and her husband had known at Oxford. “He was so _weird_ when we were young! That _trench coat_ …”

“Yes, but he _is_ taller than you,” Philip May said with mock soberness.

She pretended to consider this, sipping more of the tea. “Do you think he delivers tea and gives neckrubs in the middle of the night?”

“Oh, probably not…and more to the point, I doubt he’s anywhere near as good in bed.”

Theresa laughed again and then sighed as his hand drifted lower, his fingers and thumb sinking into the knotted muscles where her shoulders joined her neck. “Seriously, that does feel incredible.”

“Well, you have spent rather a lot of time lately with your head bent over your papers,” he said gently, and she closed her eyes, relaxing under his touch and slowly realizing how much less tense she had become in the few minutes they’d been talking. It was always this way when she was with Philip—his presence was calming, comforting. She simply liked to be near him.

Theresa let herself enjoy his attentions to her shoulders a moment longer, before forcing herself to open her eyes. “I really should finish this box.” She couldn’t sleep until she did.

“Of course, love…are you sure you don’t want me to sit up with you?”

“No, one of us might as well go to bed.”

“You’ll be all right?”

She nodded, smiling. “Yes, I’ll be quite all right.”

“Good night, then.” He leaned down to kiss her lips softly.

“Good night. And thank you, for everything.” She reached for his hand, giving it a light squeeze before he turned to go.

The reminder of his love seemed to settle over her like a warm blanket as he left and she took a final sip of the tea. Yes, she would be quite all right.

**Author's Note:**

> Philip Hammond was apparently known for being a "goth" and going everywhere in a trench coat as a teen/university student. (And he did go to Oxford with the Mays, in Theresa's year.)


End file.
